Sugar House (9780991192519) Page 12

  "No problem, Joe! See you at the dance!"

  Chapter Thirteen

  Joe's mother was getting dressed upstairs when he entered the house. His father was sitting in the living room waiting for her to finish getting ready. The smell of onions hung in the air from the supper that Joe had missed.

  "Getting home kinda late, Joe?" his father said, as Joe hung up his coat and hat in the front hallway.

  "Yes sir. Sorry I missed supper."

  "Matka left some for you in the icebox. Go and eat."

  "Thank you sir, I'm not hungry. I'll eat later."

  "Well, go on and get cleaned up for the dance. Matka was worried you wouldn't be back in time to go with us."

  Joe climbed the stairs to his bedroom to change his shirt. Matka met him at the top of the stairs. "Joe! You're so flushed. Come let me feel your head." Joe obliged his mother and let her take his temperature with the back of her hand.

  "You are very warm! Are you feeling ill?" she questioned.

  "Just a little tired. Sam and I ran around a lot."

  "But your eyes are glassy. I don't think you should go to the dance. Come downstairs and I'll get you a cold cloth for your head and a drink of water."

  The kitchen was warm from the stove. Joe was sweating. He drank the water and sat at the table with the cool cloth covering his forehead.

  "I feel fine, Matka. Please let me go to the dance."

  "I don't think so, Joe. I think you might be coming down with something. If you want to play in that baseball game tomorrow, you had better stay home and get some rest."

  "Yes, Ma'am." Joe was disappointed to miss the dance, but honestly he was extremely tired from the excitement of the day and a silly dance was not worth missing the baseball game.

  "Eat your supper and you'll feel better," she said, putting a plate of pork and onions in front of him. Joe knew if he told his mother he was not hungry she would worry more, so he feebly took a few bites to appease her.

  "See? I am fine, Matka. Go to the dance and leave Frank here with me so you can have a good time. I'll put him to bed and go to sleep." Joe's mother was so excited she didn't have to drag Frank to the dance that there was no further talk of Joe's fever. An hour after his parents had bustled out the door, Joe took Frank up to their room and read him a short children's story from the newspaper. The paper published a one-page story every Saturday, and Joe had kept the paper under his mattress to read at night. Frank liked the story and quickly fell asleep, as did Joe. He awoke a couple hours later extremely thirsty. He was surprised to find his parents were still not home when he went to the kitchen for a drink. They must be having a good time, he thought, climbing the stairs back to bed. Joe quickly fell back asleep dreaming of fly balls and running the bases.

  When Joe awoke the next morning, he felt better and he hurriedly got dressed and ran downstairs to the kitchen. His parents were still sleeping, so he decided to whip up breakfast, hoping to prove that his illness of the night before had run its course. There was a definite chill in the air as he stepped off the back porch toward the water pump. But the sky was blue and clear and had the promise of a nice day. As he finished filling his bucket, his cousin Marya walked down her family's steps to use the pump.

  "Morning, Marya," Joe said, trying to stay on her good side today.

  "Good morning, Joe. Missed you at the dance last night. Aunt Blanca said you were ill. Are you sick or were you too scared to go because you don't know how to dance?"

  "Neither. Just didn't feel like watching you fawn all over Tall Paul all night," he replied as he grabbed her bucket and began to fill it for her.

  "Joe Jopolowski! You had better stop spreading false rumors. And Paul is a nice Polish boy. He'd better not hear about you talking like that about me. He will beat your brains out."

  "Sure, Marya. Here's your water. Are you coming to the baseball game? I think Paul is playing."

  "I hope to, but I have to help my mother make the picnic lunch and watch Emilia."

  "You want to watch baseball? You hate baseball. Boy, you must love Tall Paul."

  Marya grabbed her bucket of water and turned to walk back into the house. When she reached the first step she turned and looked at Joe. "No, I really like watching strikeouts, and with you playing there should be about a hundred!" With that, Marya walked up the stairs into her house. Joe wondered why he ever tried to be civil to his cousin.

  He grabbed some wood by the shed. Balancing the wood and the water bucket wasn't easy, but he managed to get both into the kitchen. He lit a fire in the stove. While the stove was warming up, he gathered the eggs from the chicken coop. Mikołaj and Blanca came to the kitchen as Joe was finishing scrambling the eggs

  "Joe, you made breakfast!" Matka said. "You must be feeling better. Thank you, kochanie (my baby). Let me feel your forehead."

  "I'm fine, Matka. I was just a little tired yesterday. You were right. I just needed some rest." Joe knew that by telling his mother she was right, he could avoid having her check his temperature.

  Frank wandered down the stairs still looking sleepy, his bright blond hair sticking up like a porcupine's quills. "Hungry," was all he said. Ojciec picked up Frank and set him at the table. Matka buttered the toast that Joe had made on the stove and gave him a piece. They bowed their heads to bless the food before them and dug in.

  "Did you have a good time last night?" Joe asked his parents.

  "Oh yes!" Matka replied. "It was a lovely dance. The band played wonderfully. I haven't heard such good polkas since we left Poland. Ojciec and I danced for hours! I'm not sure what time we even got home."

  "After one o'clock. Your mother was like a teenager again. 'Just one more dance, Mikołaj, one more.' The only reason I got her home was the band packed up and left. My legs are going to be aching for a week!" He laughed. "Not sure I am in any shape to play baseball this afternoon."

  "Sure you will, Ojciec! You are the strongest man I know," replied Joe.

  "Thanks for the assurance, Joe. Well, I'm not as old as your Uncle Alexy, and he's playing today too. When your mother finally gave me a break from the dance floor I talked him into to it."

  Matka said, "I'll get the dishes, Joe. Why don't you run off and get ready for your game. Thanks for getting up and making breakfast. It's quite a treat for me to sleep in. Good luck at your game. I will bring Frank later with the picnic lunch and watch the end of it."

  Joe didn't need any further encouragement to leave for the ball field. Grabbing his coat and hat, he ran out the door and down the sidewalk toward the park. The sun was beginning to warm the air, and he could no longer see his breath. Halfway to the park, he began to feel winded and slowed down to a fast walk. Must still be a little tired, he told himself. When he got to the corner park, several boys were already tossing a ball around and warming up.

  "Hey Joe!" one his friends called. Joe joined them and quickly forgot about being tired, as he threw the ball and took some warm-up swings with a borrowed bat. Father Gatowski pulled up in his horse and carriage half an hour later. The round priest was dressed all in black except for a Tigers baseball cap perched on his head. The boys giggled to themselves at the sight of the monsignor in a baseball cap.

  "Let's play ball!" He sorted the boys out into two even teams of nine. Joe's team was first up to bat, and he sat down on the sideline to cheer on his friends. Tall Paul was pitching for the other team, and his throwing arm was in excellent shape today. The first boy got on base, but he was left stranded after the next three batters struck out.

  Joe's team took to the field. Joe, being one of the younger players, was stuck in the outfield. The first two batters were tagged out at first, and the third struck out. Joe's team ran off the field laughing. Joe yelled, "We hardly had time to get into position."

  Joe was first up to bat. Standing at home plate, he looked small and unintimidating. Tall Paul's first pitch sailed by him. The catcher on the other team called, "Move in! He can't hit." Joe dug his feet into the dirt and grabbed
the bat, hands apart like he'd seen the Georgia Peach do. The next pitch came high, and Father Gatowski called a ball. Tall Paul threw a low slider and Joe swung the bat at the right moment. The ball went over the first baseman's head and stayed fair. He sped off toward first base and was safe. His team cheered. Tall Paul looked impressed. Sam was up next and hit a ground ball back to Paul. He was out at first base, but Joe slid safely into second.

  Joe pondered stealing third. He stepped off the base to get a lead. Tall Paul threw to second, and Joe slid back just in time. Leading off closer to the base this time, he watched a boy a couple years older take a couple of practice swings. Tall Paul threw a fastball, and the boy hit it over Joe's head. Joe took off toward third. He rounded the base and headed home. Feet first, Joe slid into home and his team took the lead. The runner was batted in and Joe's team was up 2-0.

  Joe was sweating as he jogged to the outfield for the bottom of the second inning. The sun was beaming down, and he wiped his brow with his cap. Tall Paul's team scored one run and the game was getting off to a competitive start.

  Joes' family came to watch as the game entered the bottom of the eighth inning. Tall Paul's team had pushed ahead 4-2. Blanca laid a blanket down and began to set up the picnic lunch as she observed the game. Frank ran off toward the swings and Mikołaj joined a group of men who were already watching the game. The crowd was growing, and the excitement and cheering were rising in the park. The boys' intensity increased as Father Gatowski called out three strikes for Tall Paul's team and the ninth inning got under way.

  Joe was up to bat. He walked nervously toward home plate. The other team backed up slightly, and Joe suppressed a grin. Tall Paul threw a spitball, and Joe let it fly by.

  "Strike!" Father called. Joe looked at Ojciec, who winked back at him. Tall Paul threw a low ball enticing Joe to pop up, but Joe knew that was the pitcher's plan. He swung the bat around grabbing it with both hands and lightly bunted it toward the pitcher's mound. Joe took off down the baseline and was safe before Paul had retrieved the ball. The crowd cheered. Joe panted and smiled at his father. Sam was up next and hit a low ball toward the shortstop. Joe ran toward second. Halfway down the base line he felt his lungs suddenly seize up and he had to slow down. Father Gatowski called him out. Joe walked back toward the first base line and sat down hard on the grass.

  Joe's teammates patted him on the shoulder and head, saying "It's okay, Joe," and "Nice try, Joe." Joe was angry he hadn't run faster but brushed it off to watch the end of the game. Sam made it home from a grounder to right field, but the game ended 4-3.

  Tall Paul and his team ran around the bases, whooping and hollering. Father Gatowski declared them the champions of the St. Josaphat Boys' Baseball Game and gave each a baseball as an award. Joe hadn't known there would be a prize. He was even more dejected as he watched the team congratulate themselves and throw their new balls in the air.

  Joe sat down to eat the picnic lunch with his family.

  "Don't worry, son," Ojciec said. "That was a great bunt you had. Tall Paul had no idea you were planning that! You should have seen the surprised look on his face."

  "Thanks, Ojciec." Joe took the ham sandwich Matka offered him and sat on the blanket.

  "You are all flushed again, Joe," Matka commented, her eyes wrinkled in worry.

  "Leave him, Blanca. He just got done playing a game. If he wasn't sweaty he wouldn't be trying," his father admonished.

  Father Gatowski walked through the picnickers visiting and laughing. He accepted sandwiches and cookies from his parishioners as he mingled among them. Reaching Joe's blanket, he greeted the Jopolowski clan heartily.

  "Great day for a ball game, huh, Mikołaj?"

  "Yes, Father. Can't wait to get out there myself. First time for me."

  "If you play half as smart as your son does, I'm sure your team will come out on top."

  "Well, I don't know if I'll do that well, but Joe has been giving me some pointers. Um… Father?"

  "Yes Mikołaj?"

  "Is the American anthem going to be sung before the game?"

  "Well, I hadn't thought about it. Guess it would be a good idea. I'll have to find someone to sing it for us."

  "I could," Mikołaj responded quietly.

  "You could,Mikołaj? You know the anthem?"

  "Yes, Father. Joe had Sister Mary Monica write down all the verses and he brought it home for me to learn."

  "All the verses? I was only aware of the one! How many are there?"

  "Four in total, Father. But I'll only sing the first one—the one everyone knows."

  "Sounds terrific, Mikołaj! I'll call you up after I say a prayer before the start of the game."

  Joe was surprised at Ojciec's bravery in volunteering to sing the national anthem, but Matka was not. "Your father has a lovely voice, Joe. He used to sing in the boys' choir in church in Jastarnia.

  As Father Gatowski walked away from their picnic area, Joe looked up at his father and said, "Ojciec, do you want me to go over the words of the anthem with you before the game?"

  "No thanks, Joe. I have been singing it every morning on my way to work since you taught it to me."

  Joe took another bite of his sandwich and thought about what his father had said. He knew his father greatly valued his heritage and missed his home country every day. But he must be very proud and thankful for his adopted country to want to learn the national anthem so badly.

  Joe wondered if all immigrants felt like his father. His father had recently been notified by Henry Ford's administrative offices that he had to begin English classes twice a week in the evenings at the plant. Mr. Ford was requiring all his employees to learn English or they would lose their position. Some men at the plant felt Henry Ford didn't have the right to force them to assimilate into American culture; but Joe's father, like most others, did not feel that way. He felt he should learn the language of a country who had welcomed him and his family. He felt he could adopt many of the American customs and still keep his Polish identity.

  Father Gatowski walked onto the pitcher's mound and began to thank all the parishioners for their hard work in building and donating to the new school. He said a short prayer thanking God for the talent and contributions of all the good people of St. Josaphat's and a prayer for the future of the great cathedral, that generations to come would learn the good news of the Lord within its holy walls. Then he called Mikołaj over to the mound to sing the national anthem.

  Ojciec walked slowly over to Father Gatowski. Joe watched as he shook the priest's hand and turned to face the crowd. Ojciec stood tall. He removed his hat and placed it over his heart. Then he began to sing. The first two notes were so quiet that Joe worried his father would whisper the song and everyone would ridicule him. But his father stopped suddenly and held up his hand for attention. Clearing his throat, he smiled and began again, this time in a loud, beautiful baritone voice. His voice thundered musically above the crowd. They stopped their picnicking to look at where the melodious sound was coming from.

  Sister Mary Monica stood up from her picnic blanket and joined Joe's father with her soprano voice. A few others scrambled to their feet and joined in. Joe looked around the park and saw boys and girls from his class tentatively stand up and join in. Soon, most of the spectators had taken to their feet, uniting their voices in a show of loyalty to their new country. Joe stood up, and his mother followed her sons lead. Removing his cap, he sang the last few lines of the song. Matka's light blue eyes glittered proudly as she listend to her husband finish with a magnificent crescendo.

  The bystanders all clapped, whooped, and hollered when the song was over. A couple of men walked over to Mikołaj and clapped him on the back. Father Gatowski shook his hand again, turned to the crowd, and yelled, "Play ball!"

  The men took to the field and everyone sat down to enjoy the afternoon's entertainment. The sun had warmed the air, making for a gorgeous fall day. November could bring snow or sun in Michigan, and the parishioners thanked God
for providing a warm day for their festival. Joe's father jogged to third base, and the opposing team's batter walked to home plate. Joe took his seat on the blanket and settled in to watch the game.

  As the batter tried a couple practice swings, a coughing spell came over Joe. Holding his hands over his mouth as the nuns had taught him he doubled over gasping for breath. Matka kneeled at his side, softly encouraging him to try and relax his muscles and rubbing his back. Finally, he regained his composure and the fit subsided. Red-faced and sweating, he lay back on the blanket to grab some deep breaths.

  "You do have a fever, Joe!" Matka exclaimed, placing her cool hand on his forehead.

  "No, I'm fine, Matka. Just a little cough. I just need a drink of wat—" another coughing spell overtaking his sentence.

  "We're going home and putting you straight to bed. You are very ill," she replied. Worry crinkled her forehead as she started putting the picnic items in her basket.

  "No Matka, please. I want to watch Ojciec play in the game. Really, I am fine."

  "Absolutely not! We are going home right now." She looked around to find a neighbor to relay the message to Joe's father that they were leaving and why.

  Gathering their picnic items, she spotted Sam's mother, Mrs. Ludwicka, who was watching the game from beneath a large maple at the edge of the park.

  "Please, Mrs. Ludwicka, tell Mikołaj that my Joe is ill and we had to leave. Have him bring our basket and blanket when the game is over. May I leave them with you?"

  "Certainly," Mrs. Ludwicka said. "And I hope Joe feels better

  soon."

  Chapter Fourteen

  Matka picked up Frank and grabbed Joe's hand. They started down the wooden sidewalk toward their house. Joe was still trying to convince his mother that he wasn't sick when another coughing spell overtook him. They stopped on the sidewalk while the attack racked his little body. As he coughed into his hands, blood spattered his palms. Surprised and scared he held out his hands for his mother to see. Wiping the blood with the hem of her dress she told him not to worry—that he was going to be all right. Her face however, indicated extreme apprehension. This spell was worse than the two before, and Joe had to sit on the sidewalk to recover. After a minute, Joe stood up to walk the rest of the way home, but when he took the first step his knees buckled and he fell face first onto the wooden planks.